


Hornblower, Confused and Rather Numb

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Hornblower (TV), Hornblower - C. S. Forester
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, I love Clayton he just wants to help the other mids, M/M, Really just Clayton taking care of Horatio, Subtle Slash (kind of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9100651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: Being afraid of heights and not very resilient to the elements quite yet, Midshipman Horatio Hornblower is more than a little shaken after his “brief spell in the rigging.”





	

The waterlogged ropes bit into Horatio’s palms and he shivered, not quite able to feel the sting anymore. He didn’t know how long it had been – hours? How many? Perhaps days had even gone by and he simply had disappeared into delirium. Either way, it seemed like forever. His lips were numb and, he knew, probably purple, and he had given up all hope of maintaining the feeling in his limbs long ago.

That was why he didn’t hear the _Mister Hornblower, sir,_ the first time it was said, or the second. It was much louder the third time. That was when he heard it, and recognized the voice as belonging to Mr. Clayton, one of the few allies that he had aboard this wretched ship.

“Sir, you’ve been up there for hours!”

“Lieutenant Eccleston,” Horatio managed to stutter, his teeth chattering painfully. 

“He’s given his authorization, now get _down_ from there!” Clayton said, sternly, but not angrily. When Horatio would not move – most likely because he was not _capable_ of doing so – Clayton swung himself over the side of the ship and onto the rigging. Having sturdy enough balance not to lose his footing in the dim lighting, Clayton scaled sideways until he was next to Horatio, gripping one of his elbows firmly before easing and guiding him back down to the main deck.

Despite Clayton’s hold on him, Horatio was still nearly paralyzed of the _distance_ between himself and the water, or even between himself and the deck, and when he was standing on the railing and felt Clayton tug on his elbow again, his stomach dropped and his knees instantly buckled and he fell rather ungracefully onto the deck. The harsh rain pelted his skin and seeped through his soaked uniform.

He couldn’t feel anything. He wasn’t sure he wanted to feel anything. 

“Come, Horatio,” Clayton stood over him, unsure of what to do or _how_ to go about doing it. “If you stay out here any longer – “

But then he realized how unfocused and glassy Horatio’s eyes were and that he had probably not heard a single word of what he had just said. 

Dropping beside him on the deck, Clayton managed to wind one of Horatio’s arms around his own neck before lifting him back up to his feet, leaning Horatio’s dead weight against him while he supported the younger officer with a hold on his waist. Horatio was thin and gangly and did not weigh much, but it was still cumbersome to maneuver him down below in his half-conscious state. He was taller than Clayton and his limbs were everywhere.

Horatio, surprisingly, had remained quiet and numb and nearly lifeless until they were finally below. It was only then that he started to move at all, these little panicked twitches, his head rolling limply against Clayton’s shoulder.

“Horatio?”

“’s cold,” Horatio muttered.

The rainwater had completely drenched Hornblower to the bone, what with how long he had been forced to remain in the rigging, and as he finally began to regain feeling in his arms and legs and fingers, the sharp pain of the cold became again evident. A wave of violent shivers swept over him, and he gasped sharply, falling and leaning into Clayton, grabbing at his shoulders for support as his knees threatened to give out _again._

_He’ll catch his death, he’s just a boy!_

Seeing as there was little to no chance of Horatio cooperating, Clayton pushed him down onto one of the crates in the hold, peeling off Hornblower’s waterlogged uniform jacket and setting it aside. Already having served for several years, he knew full well that wet clothes could bring about a chill, or other illnesses, faster than anything else. 

Hornblower’s shirt followed his jacket, as did his stockings and shoes, each one of them weighing considerably more than they should have thanks to the added mass of the water. With pity and perhaps a trace of something else, Clayton looked down at poor Horatio, pale and skinny and shivering in nothing but his breeches, hugging his arms to his chest, lips purple and numb. 

A scratchy blanket was thrown over his shoulders and Hornblower looked up, blinking quickly and gawking as if he just realized where he was and what had happened, that he was below decks and deathly cold and Clayton had just wrapped him in the wool blanket from his hammock and was pulling him to his chest and rubbing circles into his back, anything to get blood flowing again.

In that moment, an enormous wave of revulsion crashed onto Horatio. He had troubled another one of his fellow midshipmen, beyond the boundaries of what was acceptable – and he felt sick at his own weakness.

“C-Clayton – “

“Just lay quiet, Horatio.” 

The same thing he had said the day Horatio had come aboard. 

“I ap-pologize…for i-imposing myself upon you, s-sir,” Horatio stammered, trying to avoid biting his tongue off in his convulsive chills. 

“No need, Horatio. No need.” 

Considerably drier now, Horatio let go of a deep, tense breath, unable to stop his eyes from closing. Now that the cold and the wretched numbness had left him, exhaustion had taken its place. It was much warmer here, below decks, with a blanket around his bony shoulders and another warm body pressed so close to his own. 

Horatio felt himself being lifted up, all at once, and if he had not been so exhausted, he would have been embarrassed to be carried like a bride over the threshold. But even thinking proved to be too strenuous of a task. There was fabric at his back, and the familiar pressure of his hammock, swayed by the rocking of the ship that was now more soothing than nausea-inducing. That part was a welcome relief. 

He wanted to apologize again, for being such an enormous, blundering burden, for causing so much additional trouble when all he wanted to do was disappear. Tomorrow. Yes, he would apologize to Clayton tomorrow.

Clayton had been standing beside him as Horatio began to drift off into a deeper sleep than he had ever experienced before, and it was almost as if he could read the younger midshipman’s thoughts in that instant. Gently, he placed a firm hand on Horatio’s forehead, pushing his hair back.

“I have you, Mister Hornblower. I have you.”

Horatio’s eyelids fluttered closed, long lashes casting feathery shadows over his hollowed cheeks. Another day gone by on the _Justinian._


End file.
